Nick Cleveland and the Lord of Strange Deaths
by Technomad
Summary: When a Slytherin girl receives a strange letter, a bunch of strange events follow, changing her life and Luna Lovegood's as well. Set in J.L. Matthews' Slytherin Rising continuity, and uses characters from that background


Nick Cleveland and the Lord of Strange Deaths

By Technomad

It all started on a morning in the middle of fall term at Hogwarts School. As the students ate breakfast at their tables, the mail owls came swooping in, bearing their morning mail. Marlie Lovegood, sitting with her friends at the Slytherin table, was surprised when a strange owl came flapping down by her plate, bearing a large, ornate envelope.

"Hullo, are you sure this lot's for me?" she asked. The owl seemed to understand, nodding its head and shoving the envelope toward her. When she took it, the owl hooted, spread its wings and soared upward, following its fellows out of the Hall. Marlie didn't watch, being absorbed in opening the envelope. When she saw what was inside, her eyebrows went up and she nudged Rianne Stormosi, who was absorbed in the FT-SE.

"What do you want, Marlie?" asked Rianne. Wordlessly, Marlie handed the letter she had received over, and Rianne read it rapidly. When she had read it through, she passed it to Deanna Tyler, who had noticed the byplay and was watching them curiously. Deanna held it so that Luella Martin, the fourth member of their little group, could read it with her.

"What do you think I should do?" asked Marlie. Normally, she was very assured, but this was unprecedented, and she really wanted her friends' input. For that matter, she was looking forward to the next time she could slip out to the Whomping Willow unobserved---this looked to be something she wanted Sirius Black's opinion on.

"Well, I think you need to talk to Snape," was Deanna's answer. Marlie was startled at first, but as she considered the idea, she found that she liked it. While she knew she was not one of Snape's favourite Slytherins, she also knew that Snape was very protective of his House, and could smell a trap a hundred miles ahead. She nodded, and put the letter away.

"And while you're talking to Snape, I'll institute a few---_inquiries_---of my own." Deanna smiled a rather unreassuring smile. "These days, I'm well-positioned to, shall we say, get straight answers." She turned to Luella. "Care to join me?" Luella nodded. She knew what Deanna was planning, and thought that a little backup would be a good idea.

"For that matter, I think I'll come along myself," mused Rianne. "I have a few talents you don't have, after all." Deanna smiled, nodding. Marlie thought that she'd have preferred having one of her friends with her when she went to beard Snape in his lair, but he was her Head of House, after all---the most he'd do would be to tell her that she was a silly girl making a mountain out of a molehill.

* * *

After the fifth-year Slytherin Potions class was over, Professor Severus Snape was gathering up some papers from his desk when he heard a throat being cleared. Looking up, he was very startled to see Marlie Lovegood, who had stayed behind when her House mates left. "Sir? May I ask you about something?"

Snape raised one eyebrow. "This is all but unprecedented, Miss Lovegood. Normally, you flee from this classroom so quickly, I wonder if your personal Boggart takes the form of a cauldron. Except when Mr. Cleveland was tutoring you last year, your grades have betrayed your utter lack of interest in my subject. Still, better late than never."

"No, sir, it's not about Potions. This is Head-of-House business." Snape's eyebrows both went up at that. Marlie was probably the single upper-level Slytherin he was least close to; he found her flippant attitude irritating, and her apparent willingness to waste what he knew was a first-rate magical talent on childishness, letting almost all of her grades take care of themselves, was enough to make him tear his hair.

Still, duty called, and Snape was always willing to go the extra mile for any Slytherin. "In that case, Miss Lovegood, let us go into my office." Once they were there, and settled in chairs, he asked: "What is so important that you come to me about it?"

Wordlessly, Marlie pulled out the letter she had received that morning and handed it over. As Snape read it, both his eyebrows went up, and he whistled softly to himself. "I see. You were right to bring this to my attention, Miss Lovegood."

* * *

After they left Marlie in the Potions laboratory, Deanna, Luella and Rianne searched the castle. After half an hour of fruitless inquiries, they ran into Penelope Clearwater, who told them where the person they wanted to find was. "He's up on the battlements, I imagine. After classes are over, he likes to go up there and watch the owls fly."

When they poked their heads up through the trapdoor that led to the battlements, they knew that their search was at an end. Scrambling up through the door, they approached the Ravenclaw they had been looking for. "Bloody hell, Nick, don't you _ever_ get cold?"

Nick Cleveland looked up and smiled when he saw who had come. "Ah, hello, you three! Rianne, Luella, good to see you---I haven't had a chance to so much as speak to you all year! Have you been avoiding me?" His smile twisted into a mocking grin. "It's as though you don't trust me---can't imagine why that would be!"

The girls gave him three identical scowls. During the previous year, Nick had neatly turned the tables on their whole House in retaliation for a campaign of practical jokes they had been waging against Ravenclaw House. Nick was easily the most Machiavellian of all the Ravenclaws, and since his mother had been a bright particular star of Slytherin in her day, he knew the Slytherin mindset well enough to turn it to his advantage. The consensus in the Serpents' Nest was that the Sorting Hat had been having an off-day when he had been Sorted.

Nick looked amused, instead of frightened, at their expressions. Deanna opened her mouth to answer him, but was interrupted by a strange noise. "Uh---Nick, what was that noise?"

Nick put his finger to his lips, signalling for quiet, as he opened his heavy, sheepskin-lined cloak. Under it, nestled against his side, was Luna Lovegood, her head snuggled on his chest and one of his arms around her. Before the second-year could be awakened by the cold, Nick pulled the cloak shut. "You know, girls, it's ironic. Here I am, my sixth year in this stone madhouse, some of the top OWL scores in history, famous throughout magical society since my third year, and what do I end up as?" He paused, then delivered his punchline: "A hot-water bottle!"

Against her will, Luella was touched. She knew that Nick, along with his formidable girlfriend Melinda Yang, had taken Luna Lovegood under his wing when it had been brought to his attention that her older twin cousins were picking on her, and that she was otherwise friendless. Deanna had been at the meeting where this was settled, and the twins sorted out, but hadn't told her much about it other than "There's a _lot_ more to those two than meets the eye." Deanna had just been proven right; this was a side of Nick Cleveland that she had never expected to see.

Nick condescended to explain: "She was up awfully late last night---Melinda was helping her catch up with some Transfiguration homework those _cousins_ of hers had stolen from her before we took a hand in things." He said the word "cousins" as though it meant something smelly and sticky he had stepped in on the street. Luella decided that if she were one of the Clearwater twins, she'd be extremely careful around Nick. The expression that had flashed across his face for a second was not reassuring, and Nick was as good at revenges as any Slytherin ever Sorted.

"I'm kind of surprised that Melinda's not here too," Deanna said. "Usually you two are all but inseparable."

Nick shook his head. "She's down in her dorm, napping. Since you remind me, where is _your _blonde partner-in-crime? Normally, the four of you are thicker than thieves." He gave them a shrewd look. "Is she mad at you because you have those silly tin badges and she got left out?"

That reminded Luella of just who---and _what_---they were dealing with. Nick Cleveland had a Slytherin's ability to spot weaknesses. "She's down talking with Snape." How Nick had figured out that Marlie felt left out of things, she didn't know, but Luella did know that for a while, Marlie had been moping. "She's got some projects of her own going on, anyway. I think prefect duties would get in her way."

At this, Luna poked her head out from under Nick's heavy cloak, her eyes widening as she saw who Nick was talking to. "I wish she'd come up too. She's my cousin and I love her but she never seems to have time to talk to me." Luna brightened up, smiling an oddly infectious smile. "She did introduce me to Ginny, Lydia and Autumn, though. She's so thoughtful---she probably thought I'd not be at ease with her friends, so she set out to find me some!" She snuggled back down, yawning. "Merlin's beard, I'm sleepy! I like sitting with _you_, Nick---except for my Daddy's arms, yours are the safest arms in the world!" Soon a snore told everybody that Luna was asleep again.

Nick gave the Slytherin girls an icy stare. He gestured for them to lean closer, and said, keeping his voice low so that Luna wouldn't waken: "I hope Marlie's ears are _burning_. If I had allowed any cousin of _mine_ to be treated the way she was, my mum'd have had my guts for garters!" Leaning back slightly, he visibly chose to change the subject. "So, what brings you three up here? Somehow, I doubt it's because you're all three madly in love with me."

"No, Nick. We've all learned our lesson." Deanna grinned ruefully, remembering the havoc that had ensued when Melinda Yang had come back to Hogwarts and been told by Millicent Bulstrode that Marlie was chasing Nick. "It is about Marlie, though. She got a---very odd---sort of letter today, and we want to know if you had anything to do with it."

* * *

"I never thought I'd see a letter like this. I know of this man, but that's about all I can say." Leaning forward in his chair, Professor Snape reread the letter Marlie had received that morning.

_To: Marlene Lovegood_

_Hogwarts Academy_

_Dear Miss Lovegood,_

_I have recently been apprised of the attack on you by my descendant, Yang Meilin, whom you know as "Melinda." Words fail to describe the shame I feel at her behaviour, although the existence of extenuating circumstances does begin to explain it. In China, control of temper at all times is a virtue highly prized by __all__, and her difficulties in this have grieved her family deeply. _

_Rest assured that she __was __punished---the details are private. She has also been in therapy at St. Mungo's to deal with the extenuating circumstances mentioned above, and is showing great improvement. The persons responsible for the extenuating circumstances have been dealt with. _

_However, that leaves us with an unpaid debt of honour to you. Would you be so gracious as to accept an invitation to dine with me, as well as other relatives of mine, in Hogsmeade so that we may personally atone to you for the injuries you suffered? Please respond to me at the Magical Section of the Singaporean Embassy in London. You may, of course, bring a chaperone---we would never wish to cause you any dishonour._

_Yours truly,_

_Fu Renjie_

_Doctor of Mystic Arts_

_Wizard-in-Chief to the Dragon Throne (emeritus)._

"So who is this?" asked Marlie. Startled, Snape broke out of his reverie to address his student.

"_This_, Miss Lovegood, is one of the most powerful, prominent wizards currently extant. In his younger years, he founded, or was Headmaster of, five magical schools in China and among the Overseas Chinese. And I should mention that Headmastership in such schools is obtained differently to the way we do it here."

"How so?" Marlie had never thought much about foreign wizard schools, although she knew from the time she had spent with Nick Cleveland that North America had many different schools representing many traditions, Asian, African, Caribbean and Native-American, as well as several schools that followed European models.

Snape grinned an unpleasant grin. "Were we doing things the way they do in China, or in its cultural orbit, Professor Dumbledore would probably have had to duel his predecessor for the Headmastership. Such duels are always to the death." Snape looked back at the letter. "His---ingenuity---in such matters won him the nickname 'Lord of Strange Deaths.'"

Marlie's eyes went wide. "Bloody _hell_---oh, sorry, Professor."

"No need to apologise, Miss Lovegood. That, in fact, was what I wanted to say when I saw this letter. You _will_, of course, accept his invitation---it's a very great honour." His tone made it clear that argument or remonstration was useless.

Marlie scanned the letter again. "Uh---sir, it says that I may bring a chaperone. Who---?"

"I shall be happy to accompany you, Miss Lovegood." At her surprised look, Snape went on: "While I will admit, _entre nous_, that there are other Slytherins whom I find more congenial, you are still_ my _responsibility, in _my_ House, and chaperoning you is _my_ duty, and my _honour_." Under his breath, he added: "And if I don't, your mother will skin me alive, if I don't die of curiosity first!"

* * *

"Marls got a very odd letter today," Deanna said. "Seems she's been invited to dinner with someone named Fu Renjie." Her black eyes bored into Nick's pale grey eyes as she leaned closer. "I want to know, Nick Cleveland. Is this some sort of trick of yours?"

"A trick? Are you bloody _mad_?" Nick leaned forward, matching her stare for stare. "If I were fool enough to dare misuse _that_ name, by the time he was done with me I'd be a soprano." He lowered his voice, hissing "And I do _not _mean a member of an Italian-American family in New Jersey, either!" Returning to his normal tone, he went on: "Now that we've had our little dominance contest, what could I do to make you believe that I'm on the up-and-up this time? I swear---on the Raven's Wing, if you like---that this is nothing to do with me."

Deanna looked at Rianne, who nodded. "Okay, I believe you. But the rest of our House still doesn't trust you as far as they could throw you."

Nick looked rueful for a second. "Can't honestly say that I blame you. How does this sound? Melinda and I are both willing to stay in your common room---unarmed and wandless---until Marlie gives us leave to go. That way, if this is a trick, you've got us right where you want us."

"You know, that would be a good way to establish _bona fides_," mused Rianne. "Like you say, if something happens to Marlie, we've got you right there."

"So go talk to the Slytherins---and especially Marlie. I can speak for Melinda in this matter." Nick looked down. In a low voice, he went on: "Neither of us can brace Marlie. Melinda feels she's lost too much face, and I can't see her without my conscience rearing up and chewing on me."

"Whyever is that? What Melinda did, she did without your knowledge." Luella was curious, and she could see that her mates were, too.

"I can't see Marlie without remembering how she looked when she came down to the infirmary, all bruised up with her poor little throat swollen. I felt like I'd failed her---I should have managed to intercept Melinda and given her the whole story before that bloody Millicent Bulstrode administered her poison." The Ravenclaw looked haunted.

Unwillingly, Luella sensed his pain, and she could see that Deanna and Rianne could too. "Look, Nick---you weren't at fault. Marlie was at fault, Millicent was _definitely _at fault---" the kicking Marlie's mates, ably aided by Draco Malfoy, had administered to Millicent for deliberately setting Melinda on a fellow Slytherin had passed into House legend---"and Melinda was at fault, if only for coming straight back to school instead of getting therapy. We heard some things about what she'd been through."

"Be thankful you didn't hear what I heard. I've been kicking myself for letting her go---even though I couldn't have stopped her. Consciences, eh?" Nick gave them a haggard grin. "Who'd have 'em? I know up _here_---" he pointed to his head---"it was not my fault. Down _here_---"he pointed to his chest---"I still think I could have done something different."

"Well, eventually you'll believe it. In the meantime, we look forward to seeing you when Marlie goes for her visit." With that, the Slytherins turned to leave.

* * *

On the appointed evening, Marlie was grumbling to her friends: "A whole evening spent with old crumblies! This is going to be Boredom Central!"

"For someone who's so sure she's going to be bored to tears, you're taking care with your appearance," teased Deanna. It was true---Marlie was wearing her nicest dress robes, and had taken special care with her hair, which flowed in golden waves down her back. She had taken the chance for a talk with Sirius earlier that day, and while Sirius had been amused by her reaction, he had told her that meeting important people, even "old crumblies," merited one's finest dress-robes. He had made her promise to come tell him all about the meeting, as soon as she could.

"Oh, that's Snapey's doing. He told me that if I shamed him, by not dressing nicely or not being polite, he'd make me wish I'd Sorted into Hufflepuff!" Marlie gave a loud snort. "Me! Hufflepuff! As if!"

"Well, when he says things like that, it's best to take him at his word. You look marvelous," said Deanna, hugging her friend gently. "You go off and have your dinner, try to keep yourself awake, and we'll be waiting for you to come home all safe and sound." With hugs all around, Marlie went to meet Professor Snape.

When she met him, she could have sworn he looked nervous. She had never seen him take such care with his own appearance; his hair was freshly washed and he was in a set of black dress robes that Marlie estimated must have cost him hundreds of Galleons. "Ah, Miss Lovegood. You look quite presentable. Shall we go?" He gallantly offered her his arm and escorted her out of the Slytherin common room.

A minute later, the door opened again, and Mike Lovegood came in, followed by Nick Cleveland and Melinda Yang, and then the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. All the Slytherins' wands were out, and they were all aimed at the two Ravenclaws. "Here they are. We didn't search them yet," reported Marcus Flint. "We'll take charge of Nick. Would you girls like to do the honours for Melinda?"

"It'll be our pleasure," answered Deanna. "You can put your wands down, boys. I don't think these two are going anywhere." To Melinda, she continued: "Come on. We'll take you up to our dorm and search you. Just to make sure that you aren't carrying anything you shouldn't."

"I'm not, but go ahead." Uncharacteristically meek, the Chinese girl walked up the stairs behind Deanna, with Luella and Rianne following her. While Melinda seemed to be cooperating, Luella gripped her wand tightly. She had not forgotten what a deadly fighter Melinda Yang was, even though she and Deanna seemed to be dealing more easily than they had.

Once they were in the Slytherin fifth-year girls' dorm, they went to work. At a gesture from Deanna, Melinda shucked her robe off over her head and handed it to Rianne, who began searching it for hidden pockets. Under her robe, she was wearing a Chinese-style tunic and trousers, and plimsoll shoes with white socks.

"Robe's clean," reported Rianne. She put the robe down on a nearby table. She turned to the Ravenclaw girl. "You know the routine. Keep going." Nodding, Melinda began undoing the fastenings on her tunic, her face expressionless.

As Melinda discarded her clothes, each item was checked by Rianne, while Deanna stood by, wand at the ready. Luella helped Rianne, and found herself admiring the Ravenclaw girl's wardrobe. _Most of it silk_, she thought, _and __brocaded__! Must be __nice__… _

Looking up, she was startled. Naked, Melinda Yang looked like she almost didn't have a spare ounce of flesh; she was all wiry muscle. Luella had expected that; the network of scars, and what looked to be tattoos here and there, were what had startled her.

Deanna's eyes went wide. "Uh---how---?" She faltered to a stop, not wanting to give offence. Reaching out, she gently traced the path of one scar that went down Melinda's upper arm.

"Ah, you've discovered my little secret!" The Chinese girl's voice was edged with amusement. "_Those_ are souvenirs of my little vacation from school last year. The signature of San-ko-lin-sen, and his Tcho-Tcho followers." Into the sudden silence, she went on, her tone as light as though she were discussing the latest relationship or prank: "Have you ever heard of the Eleven Exquisite Excruciations of the Tcho-Tcho? I went through four of them---or was it five? I don't remember---before my relatives and the Xifantong rescued me."

Deanna sat down, looking sick to her stomach, and Rianne closed her eyes. Luella knew how they felt; all of a sudden she was regretting having eaten heartily at lunch. She knew what the Tcho-Tcho were capable of; she had read reports about them at Caitlin Tyler's place the previous year. The Tcho-Tcho were far crueller than the Death Eaters, and much more subtle in their operations.

Melinda went on: "You can see why I went mad. Most people go mad after about the Second Serpentine Suffering, but I'm told I held out until almost the end of the Third Triumphant Torment." She smiled proudly. Luella wanted to cover her ears, but she knew she would never insult the Chinese girl so. "Afterwards, they patched me up and had me on the next plane back to Scotland. I'd have done better for more time in hospital, but my mum wouldn't hear of it." She looked at them amusedly. "In any case, can you finish searching me? I'm a tropical bird, and this place is always cold."

"We're---we're done," whispered Deanna. "Go put your clothes back on, Melinda."

"Oh no you're not," snapped Melinda. "There's loads of ways I could have smuggled something past _that _search. If this is the best the British Aurors can do, it's no wonder Sirius Black got out of Azkaban." She opened her mouth. "You haven't checked my mouth. Or my hair. Or---other places." She pointed to her bookbag. "I doubt you had the sense to bring rubber gloves, so I laid in a supply."

When Deanna hesitated, eyes wide in shock, Melinda went on: "You want to be an Auror. The whole school knows of your ambition, Deanna Tyler. Well, think of this as training. My uncle's an Auror in Hong Kong, and believe me, it isn't all dragging Dark Wizards in by the scruff of the neck, before everybody adjourns for tea and medals!" Her expression softened. "I'll talk you through it. I trust you---and, in any case, after what the Tcho-Tcho did, nothing you do could begin to bother me."

Looking distinctly gobsmacked, Deanna did as she was bid, running a gloved finger through Melinda's mouth, then, at her direction, checking between each of her fingers and toes, lifting her breasts, and performing a cavity search. When that was done, Melinda got back into her tunic and trousers, and sat down so that Luella could comb out her hair to search for poisoned needles. As she combed, Luella thought: _This is a hell of a note, when the person being searched has to direct the search! How Caitlin would laugh! _She was grateful that Deanna had done the more intimate searching.

When Melinda was dressed and reassembled, they led her down to the common room. Nick was just coming in, escorted by Mike Lovegood and Marcus Flint. "He's clean, and I think he's on the up-and-up," Marcus reported. "He actually told us how to search him."

"Warm Slytherin hospitality. Nothing like it, is there, love-of-my-life?" asked Nick. As unruffled as though he were in the Ravenclaw common room, he appropriated a couple of chairs for himself and Melinda and sat down, snagging a book off the shelves and ignoring the stares they were getting from the younger Slytherins.

* * *

Marlie knew her Head of House well enough to know that he was very nervous as he led her down the path to Hogsmeade. While it was not a Hogsmeade weekend, his presence as her Head of House was enough to constitute authorisation; he had told her that Professor Dumbledore had been consulted, and had been quite pleased to grant permission, saying that he was expecting Dr. Fu to pay him a visit while he was in the neighbourhood.

It was still broad daylight, so no Dementors were in evidence, which suited Marlie, and she could tell that Snape was happy about it as well. He had been very unhappy about the effect that Dementors had on Deanna, and truth be told, Marlie was not at all keen on him seeing what a wuss she turned into when they were nearby. As it was, she was "nervous as a cat at a dog show," to use an expression she'd heard from Nick, and she felt like a big cold owl was flapping its wings in her stomach.

They entered the Three Broomsticks five minutes before the time they had agreed on, and were pounced on by an agitated Madam Rosmerta. "Oh, the honour of having him here, I was so afraid he'd turn up his nose, but he was so kind, such a perfect gentleman…" she prattled as she led them upstairs, to a banquet room with a "Reserved" sign on the door.

Just before they went in, Marlie whispered: "Do I look all right, Professor?"

Snape looked her over and gave her an uncharacteristic smile. "You look lovely, Miss Lovegood. A true credit to Slytherin House." Much to Marlie's surprise, he winked. "With you in the room, nobody need notice me."

"You look pretty good yourself, Professor---with all respect, sir." It was true; Snape's black robes were well-chosen to set off his pale skin, and how had she never noticed what large, dark eyes he had? Not to mention, his hair looked much better without whatever awful grease he usually put into it…_what am I thinking? I must be going mad! "Snape" and "attractive" __do not__ belong in the same sentence in any sane world…_She shuddered.

"Showtime," murmured Snape, as he knocked on the door. It swung open, and they found themselves looking in at a table set up for a huge banquet. The room was decorated in what had to be incredibly expensive Chinese antiques.

As they stared, a deep, soft, purring voice called out: "Ah, welcome, welcome! Professor Snape, Miss Lovegood, do come in!" Once they walked in, Marlie looked around, and gasped at what she saw.

The person who had spoken was seated at the head of the table. As she came forward, Marlie's mind was spinning_. Is this my year for incredibly hot older men, or what?_ The more she saw, the more she liked. Dr. Fu was wearing Chinese-style robes, thickly embroidered with dragons and phoenices, that Marlie could tell would have cost a small fortune in Diagon Alley---if they could even be bought there. However, one look into his face, and she forgot completely about his clothes. Beneath a brow like Shakespeare, his face belonged on a handsome devil---a Satan who could have tempted Mother Teresa to sin, dominated by huge, slightly-slanted emerald-green eyes.

He rose, extending his hand, and as she shook it automatically, she noticed how slender and graceful it was, and how strong. Dr. Fu's touch made her tingle all over, and she managed---barely---to avoid staring at him with her mouth hanging open. "It's---it's an honour to meet you, Doctor," she managed to stammer, as she sat down just before her weak knees could betray her. He gave her a dazzling smile, and she felt dizzy.

Another voice, from someone she hadn't noticed, came from behind her. "Please---it's our pleasure to meet you at last. Mr. Cleveland spoke highly of your talents, Miss Lovegood. I am Meilin's---Melinda's---old grandmama, Yang Meihua." Turning, Marlie found herself confronted by a gorgeous, immaculately coiffed Chinese lady, with her coal-black hair in an intricate knot, dressed in robes only slightly less elaborate than Dr. Fu. She smiled warmly and held out her hand. "And Professor Severus Snape. We are both highly honoured that you chose to escort your pupil tonight. Our patriarch has long wished to speak with you."

"I have, Professor. I am told that you are a true Master. I have some slight skill in the alchemical arts, and have often found it useful to compare notes with Western practitioners. Even at my age, there is always something new to learn, and learning new things is what keeps me mentally flexible." Reminded of Snape's existence, Marlie turned to see how her House Head was reacting. She was gratified to see that he seemed to be just as awed as she was. _I wonder if he's reacting to "grandmama" the way I am to Dr. Fu? _

She touched her Golden Snitch necklace. _Tish? Are you there?_ A feeling of warm reassurance came over her, and she "heard" _Of course I'm here, sister. Isn't he __yummy__? I could eat him up with a spoon!_

"Please, eat. This food's a poor reflection of what we'd offer you at home, but here in these islands, it's the best we could do." Reminded of the meal, Marlie looked the table over. It was a Chinese banquet such as she had never seen, and all smelled utterly delicious. Picking up chopsticks, and mentally thanking Nick for having showed her how to use them, she tucked in, never taking her eyes off Dr. Fu.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the Slytherin common room, the two Ravenclaw "guests" were by far the most unruffled people in the room. The younger Slytherins were torn between awe---Nick Cleveland was the world record-holder for altitude and speed on brooms, and Melinda was well-known as one of Hogwarts' two hardest hard-girls---and agitation at the disruption to routine represented by the Ravenclaws' presence. The elders were mainly wondering when, and whether, Nick would somehow set things at sixes-and-sevens. His reputation for trickiness had preceded him.

When she had finished a piece of homework she had fished from her bookbag, Melinda looked around. To their audience, she commented: "Old Ravenclaw custom---we believe that if you know a person's bookshelves, you know half of him." Getting up, she went over to the shelves, curiously examining the books on display.

One of the younger Slytherins mustered up courage. "Uh, Melinda---how do you know the other half of a person?" Pulling a book off the shelf, Melinda turned, smiling an approving smile.

"The way to know the other half of a person, er---forgive me, but what's your name?" She looked apologetic. "I don't usually pay much attention to the Sorting, other than to notice who gets sorted into my own House."

"I'm Aradia Lovecraft---I'm first-year." Reassured by Melinda's friendly response, Aradia came forward. "I like your hair---it's so long and black and thick."

Melinda smiled proudly. "Yes, it's never been cut. To answer your question, Aradia, the way to know the other half of a person is to know who he or she sleeps with, and how that person is treated." Aradia giggled, along with several other girls. Melinda sat down, opened the book and began paging through. What she saw didn't please her---her expression became stormy. "Buddha help us! Who _translated _this?" She held the book up with a disgusted expression. "Whoever did _this_ translation must have been smoking opium!"" All the Slytherins saw that what had irritated her was their treasured copy of _Sun Tzu's Art of War_.

"Er---you say this translation's crap?" Mike Lovegood was slightly shocked; the Slytherins had long considered the Chinese sage the last word on the theory of strategy. "Could you do better?"

Melinda gave him a level look. "Well---I'm a native Chinese speaker, well-acquainted with classical Chinese and modern dialects, as well as fully fluent in English with what I've been told is a fine writing style. Does _that _answer your question?"

Mike looked at her narrowly. "Would you recommend a translation that we could use?" He spread his hands. "Of course, you could do one yourself, but we couldn't ask that of you…"

Melinda raised one eyebrow and grinned. "Do I detect an attempt to manipulate me? Well, I'm caught up on homework, and need a project. This abortion has the Chinese text on facing pages, so all I'll need is my writing-brush and parchment." Rooting in her bookbag, she came out with a brush, inksticks, an inkstone and a bundle of parchment. Sitting down, she commented: "In all fairness, Classical Chinese is often able to be validly translated into English several different ways. Even so, this version's a travesty." She dipped her brush and began writing.

* * *

Marlie was eating her dinner, hardly noticing the food---she was so taken up with Dr. Fu that they could have been feeding her pig-slop and she'd never have known it. The Doctor had been very pleased to find out how much she liked Transfiguration, and they were deep in discussion. Marlie was catching glimpses of Transfiguration theory that she knew she'd hardly get before seventh year, if then---part of her wished for a quill and parchment, so she could take notes.

Of course, it helped that Dr. Fu was so outrageously attractive---with a small part of her mind, she wondered if this was what men felt like when watching Veelas dance. The doctor's voice was a deep bass purr that made her wonder what his Animagus form was---a tiger, she'd wager; he sounded like a tiger would if they could speak. Combined with his luminous green eyes, and that face, Marlie figured that even the formidably-virtuous Minerva McGonagall would want to drag him off someplace and set about him. She squirmed in her seat, drinking in every word he said, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open.

Meanwhile, Professor Snape was having a fascinating conversation with Melinda's grandmother. "Yes, Melinda speaks very well of her teachers. She's received very high grades here."

"Which just means that she's not being challenged enough," put in Dr. Fu, breaking off his discourse on Transfiguration for a minute. "While I am here, I plan to get together with this headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, and this Professor Flitwick who seems to be in charge of her House. I want to see to it that she's put on a special, extra-tough regimen of study, to make sure that her talents are exercised to the uttermost." He gave Marlie an absolutely dazzling smile, and she felt her heart doing flip-flops. "Perhaps other students could also benefit from such an accelerated programme."

Snape looked thoughtful. "I can think of one that would, right off the bat. She's a third-year in Gryffindor House---a very talented student, but prone to finding trouble to get into. I think that she needs more challenge than our standard Hogwarts curriculum could give her."

Dr. Fu looked interested. "I would be interested in meeting this student. Do you think it could be arranged?"

"Of course, sir. You'll need to speak to the Headmaster, and Professor McGonagall---she's Head of Gryffindor House in the same way I am of Slytherin House. Professor McGonagall would need to give her consent for any such scheme."

"I shall speak to them." Dr. Fu turned back to Marlie, and she felt herself falling back under his spell---not that she had really been out of it. Or wanted to be, for that matter.

* * * * * * * * * *

Nick Cleveland looked up from his book, his eyebrows going up, as Rianne Stormosi sat down across from him, placing a chessboard between them. "Is this a challenge?" he asked mildly.

"I seem to remember you saying once that 'Ravenclaws do dominate play, but that's hardly a surprise, now is it?' about those chess tournaments your House sponsors down in the storage rooms. I've been dong well; I'm now in the Upper Intermediate Division, and so far, undefeated. I want to play you." She gave him a Look. "I want to see if you play chess as well as you _talk _chess."

Nick's eyes narrowed. "Oh, you do? Well, consider your challenge accepted. Bring it on, little girl, and may the best chess player win!" Rianne held out her fists, and Nick picked one, which turned out to hold a black pawn.

As they set up their pieces, Nick commented: "You know, Rianne, chess is proof that life is really fair. All there is is the board, the pieces, and the skill of the players. Down in those tournaments, there's no Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin or Gryffindor. No teacher nor pupil---nor staff member." He looked up and grinned. "Did you know that Filch plays, and quite well, too?"

"No! When did you ever play him?" With those words, Rianne opened play, starting out conventionally with a bishop's pawn.

"After he saw the hot tub and sauna I built for the Ravenclaws, he grumbled so much that I volunteered to build him one. I was finishing up when I saw a chess set and asked him if he played. I thought I'd go easy on the old fellow, which was a mistake. He beat my ears off that first game, then scolded me for playing at less than a hundred percent." Nick, unpredictable as always, had made his first move by bringing a knight into play, taking advantage of the knight's unique ability to leap over other pieces. Rianne's eyes widened at Nick's unorthodox opening.

Deanna wandered over. "Bags I play the winner." With that, she settled down to watch, along with some of the other Slytherins who played chess. Then Deanna thought about what she'd just heard. "_Hang _on---what's this about a hot tub and sauna? Why do you Ravenclaws rate that and not anybody else?"

Rianne moved out another pawn, threatening Nick's knight. Nick answered: "I decided that a hot tub and sauna would be nice things to have, and got permission from Flitwick to build them. Big mistake---I should've built _two_." Moving his knight out of danger, he went on: "I thought that we could share it, and take turns---fool that I was. The minute I was finished, the Ravenclaw girls pretty much appropriated both the tub and sauna as Girl Territory, and the lads and I're lucky to get a look in once a month!"

Melinda looked up from her translation. "Nick, darling love, don't you realise that women have a tropism for that sort of pampering and luxury?" She smiled. "I will say, coming in from outside when it's cold, I really appreciate being able to soak away the chill in hot water up to my neck. I have to admit that the Japanese have the right idea about that."

* * * * * * * * * *

Marlie had been gently steered into talking to Melinda's grandmother, while Snape discussed arcane alchemical theories with the Doctor. "I blame myself---and my worthless daughter-in-law, Melinda's mother---for her difficulties in controlling her temper. Melinda's mother had been planning for a son, and having to settle for a daughter was a dreadful disappointment. She took it out on Melinda, and encouraged her nieces to do likewise." Madame Yang looked grim, as she recalled what had gone on. "Melinda's father adored her, but he was often away and, as you say here, 'when the dog's away, the cats will sharpen their claws.' Or something like that."

Marlie was shocked. She had always been secure in her mother's love, and couldn't imagine how she might have turned out had she been made as welcome as a lump of coal in a Christmas stocking. "Is that why she reacts so violently to affronts from other women?"

"Yes, dear. They managed to break through a lot of her defences at St. Mungo's this last summer, and she's finally coming to terms with the idea that it wasn't her fault that she was so mistreated. We offered to let her finish her education in a civilised country---" The Chinese lady broke off suddenly as she realised what she had just said. "Oh, Miss Lovegood, do please forgive me! I never meant to imply that Britain was less than civilised; it's just that traditionally we Chinese have believed that 'civilisation' and 'China' were the same thing. Our family's a bit old-fashioned, in some ways."

"No offence taken." Marlie shook her head. "To be honest, I'd never have made a move for Nick if I had known that he and Melinda were still together; I honestly thought that they'd broken up because Melinda had to go back home." Reflectively, she fingered her neck, even though the bruises Melinda had left had long faded. "I guess I learned a valuable lesson about getting all the facts and looking before I leap." She grinned. "Not looking before one leaps is more a Gryffindor characteristic than Slytherin, anyway."

"Then you have learned something many people do not learn till later in life, dear." Madame Yang smiled warmly. "Even at my age, or older, learning new things keeps one flexible and young-at-heart."

* * *

Nick Cleveland stared at the chessboard. "Well, Rianne, I can't be sure how you did it, but you've got me, fair and square." He pointed. "If I move my king _here_, your bishop will nail him. If I move him _there_, your rook has him, and if he stays where he is, your queen has him." At this, Nick's king pulled out a sword and dramatically impaled himself. "Guess that makes it unanimous---checkmate." He held out his hand. "Excellent game, Rianne. I'll be sure to keep an eye on you in the tournaments." Standing up, he offered his chair to Deanna. "I believe you wanted to play the winner?"

Across the room, Melinda put down her writing brush. "Here, Mike, have a look at this. I got the first chapter done, and I want to take a break from writing." Mike Lovegood picked up the parchments and began reading, his eyes widening as he read.

"This is good, Melinda! You should seriously look into doing translation work! My Mum's always banging on about how they need more people to translate foreign-language stuff down at the Ministry. Would you like me to tell her about this?"

"Please do." Melinda picked up her brush, her eyes dancing, and began working rapidly on another sheet of parchment. "Here---my impression of the Slytherin Quidditch team." Mike looked surprised. "In China, a well-educated person is expected to be able to draw and paint, as well as to have exquisite calligraphy, and I've won prizes for my work back in Singapore."

When the picture was done, Marcus Flint, Mike and Jordan Foxworth crowded around. The second they saw what the Ravenclaw girl had drawn, they began laughing like drains. "Oh, Merlin! Can we keep this? Please?" Flint gave Melinda a pleading look. "I want to hang it up in our changing room!"

Curious, the other Slytherins gathered around to see what Melinda had done. Sure enough, she had sketched their Quidditch team, posing as for a group photograph. On one end, Marlie Lovegood reclined in front of the group, with a sultry expression on her face. On the other end---

"Why'd you draw Draco that way?" asked Mike, snickering. "With those big huge ears, and wrapped in a towel?"

Melinda gave Mike a big innocent smile. "Well, darling---I've always said he plays Quidditch like a house-elf, so I just drew him as one!" At that, all the Slytherins save Draco laughed long and loud; they hadn't forgotten Draco's ineptitude in his first game against Gryffindor. Draco turned bright red. Melinda looked even more innocent. Luella made a mental note that the Ravenclaw girl's wit was as razor-sharp as her martial-arts skills, and reminded herself not to make herself a target for Melinda's brand of humour.

Draco stomped off to his dorm to sulk, and as the novelty wore off, the Slytherins returned to their pursuits. Into the sudden quiet, Goyle snarled: "I'll never get this bloody stuff! Flitwick must be mad to think I can do this!"

He looked up to find Nick Cleveland standing behind him. "Here, what's giving you problems?" The Ravenclaw held out his hand for the offending homework assignment, glancing through it. "Hmmm---this is stuff we covered years ago. Tell you what---grab your gear and gather 'round, and I'll see if I can help you get your mind around this lot."

* * *

When Marlie and Snape finally left the Three Broomsticks, they were very quiet as they headed back up to Hogwarts. It was getting dark, and the Dementors would be on the streets soon, so they both hurried as best they could after such a huge meal. Marlie clutched a cloth-wrapped bundle to her chest, her eyes shining as she relived every minute of the evening.

When they got back into the Slytherin common room, they were greeted with a sight they had never expected. Melinda was at the centre of a group of girls, dashing off drawings and explaining how a Chinese writing brush was used, and why it was superior to a quill, while Nick was sitting with Crabbe and Goyle, helping them with Charms homework. Both Ravenclaws looked to have made themselves completely at home.

"I'm back! Safe and sound!" Marlie went over and grabbed a very surprised Melinda by the hand. "Your relatives are absolutely _wonderful_! Why didn't you ever tell anybody here about them?"

"Much as it pains me to spoil this scene of reconciliation," Snape purred, "it is getting close to curfew time, and I think our guests should make their way back to their _own_ common-room." At Crabbe and Goyle's pleading looks, he went on: "If you wish to get further assistance from Mr. Cleveland, you may speak to him at breakfast tomorrow. In the meantime, it's time for him to go."

As the Ravenclaws left, Nick turned and said: "I do want to thank you all for your kindness and hospitality to me and Melinda. I look forward to seeing you around the school." With that, he left.

Marlie ran up to her dorm, her friends right behind her, all agog to hear every detail of the evening. "Well, Marlie," drawled Rianne, "I take it you weren't bored?"

"Bored? Merlin, no! Melinda's family head is the hottest thing I've seen since---since I don't know when!" Marlie babbled. "Tall, lean, and with the most gorgeous green eyes, in a face that would have a stone statue howling down off her pedestal---and charm by the bucket!"

"What did he give you?" asked Luella. She poked at the bundle that Marlie was still carrying. "Is that a present?"

"Yes it is. He said that such a one as I deserved to have it. I haven't opened it---I wanted to have you there with me." Marlie reached out to open it, only to be forestalled by Deanna, who drew her wand and cast a charm.

"Okay, it's clean. No sign of magic on it, or poisons, or anything." She shrugged her shoulders at Marlie's indignant look. "Look---we know how tricky _Nick _can be. Can you imagine how much more devious someone several times his age could be?"

Marlie was paying no attention, opening the wrappings. When she saw what was inside, she let out a loud squeal, grabbing it and holding it up. "Oh, Merlin's _beard_! When the other girls see this, they will die! They will just _die_!"

Rianne, Deanna and Luella were dumbstruck. The gift Marlie had received was a beautiful dark-green silk dress robe, cunningly embroidered with silver-thread snakes in intricate patterns. Luella fought down a stab of envy. _Them as has, __**gets**_, she thought, remembering a phrase she'd seen on TV one summer in Surrey.

Rianne was the first to speak. "Uh---mate---I don't think that I could touch that in Diagon Alley for less than three thousand Galleons." She held up a paper that had been in the package. "Ah---here's a note. _Miss Lovegood---we were able to get your measurements from your usual robe supplier in Diagon Alley, and thought that this small token of our esteem might please you. Yours, Fu Renjie_."

"When my mum sees this, she will just die!" gloated Marlie. "Not to mention the guys!" She shucked off her robe and pulled the green robe on, admiring herself in the mirror. "Oh, Merlin, it's beautiful!" Finally, she carefully took it off and hung it up, running her fingers lovingly over the embroidered snakes. "They even took care to make it a Slytherin robe!"

* * *

"And we had dinner together, and he _talked _to me, he treated me like I was grownup, and he knows ever so much about Transfiguration, and he's sooo handsome, his voice is like a tiger's purr---" Marlie rattled on, a mile a minute, to Sirius Black, having sought him out as soon as she could to give him an account of what had transpired.

Sirius had smiled at first, listening to her excited prattle, but as the story went on, he had fallen silent---not that he could have gotten a word in edgewise to save his life. He was staring into the fire, his face expressionless as he mechanically worked a Rubik's Cube.

Marlie didn't notice at first, being caught up in the excitement of recounting her adventure. "You should see him, Sirius! Two metres tall at least, built like a guardsman, with the most graceful hands, and those eyes! Oh, Merlin, those huge green eyes! I swear that man could have hypnotised me in a second!"

At this, Sirius looked up. "Green eyes, you say?" He looked haunted for a second. "I knew a woman once who had green eyes…"

"Yes, green eyes. Just like Harry Potter, now that I think of it." Marlie giggled. "Wouldn't it be _weird _if he was related to Harry somehow? I can't imagine how that could have happened, though. I mean, Harry's pure English as far as I know."

"You never know. Even the oldest magical families can have Squibs, and in Asia, it's a big disgrace to have one in your family. He might have had a relative who was sent here to save his life. They don't tolerate Squibs in Asia the way they do here."

"Well, it's nothing to me. Did I tell you about the dress robes he gave me? Oh, you should see them, and see me in them! They're pure silk, delicate enough that I could draw them through a wedding-ring, and tough enough that I could wear them into combat---not that I ever would! The green colour sets off my complexion perfectly, and they're embroidered all over with silver snakes!" Marlie hugged herself in sheer acquisitive glee. "I can't wait to show everybody!" She looked speculative. "I wonder if he's single…"

By this time, Sirius had managed to tear the Rubik's Cube apart, although his face was still an expressionless mask. "I doubt it, kitten. He's probably already married. In any case, he's much too old for you, I'll warrant." He threw the pieces of the Cube into the fire.

"Sirius! You know I've got nothing against hot older men!" Marlie regarded Sirius narrowly. "What's the matter? Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh, no, no…it's just that…he's probably burned through a bunch of wives already, a lot of older wizards do, you know. Besides, if you married him, he'd almost certainly take away your wand and make you do menial work, you know how these old patriarchs are…" Sirius' ramblings were cut off when Marlie threw herself on him and hugged him hard.

"Oh, Sirius, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt your feelings!" She nestled against him, letting him put his arms around her. "I suppose I did let myself get a little carried away…I really am too young to get married, and how could I run off to China anyway? You need me here!" She looked up into his eyes. "He's almost certainly too old to be interested in me, anyway. Can you forgive me, Sirius?"

"Of course, kitten. I could never stay angry at you, not when you were just little, and not now." Sirius held her close and they snuggled together.

* * *

Melinda Yang was eating her Sunday breakfast, with Nick on one side of her and Luna on the other side, when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning, she paled when she saw who it was. Marlie Lovegood was standing there, with her three friends behind her.

Melinda stiffened, expecting an attack, but Luna smiled with delight. "Marlie! Hi! I'm so glad you came over! Those new friends you found for me are wonderful! This is my best year at Hogwarts yet!" She saw how Melinda was reacting, and her eyes widened. "Melinda? You know my cousin Marlie Lovegood…don't you?" Melinda nodded, her face the colour of old cottage cheese. Beside her, Nick's hand had snaked down off the table, reaching for the sheath where he kept his wand.

Luella Martin whispered in Marlie's ear: "I think you managed to surprise her. She doesn't know what to do. The Quaffle's in _your _hands, Marls---go for the rings!"

The Quidditch metaphor got through to Marlie. Squatting down so that she and the Chinese girl were eye-to-eye, she reached out for Melinda's hand. "Melinda---I want to tell you how truly, deeply sorry I am for trying to take Nick away from you. It was really a stupid, thoughtless thing for me to do, and the only excuse I can offer is that I honestly thought that you and he had split up. I know now how much he means to you, and I wanted to promise you, on the Great Serpent, that I'll never, ever interfere with another couple again as long as I live." She turned to her friends. "Deanna, Luella and Rianne are here as my witnesses. Can you ever forgive me?"

This was the last thing Melinda had expected, and it snapped her out of her shock. "Forgive you? It's you who should forgive me! I'm ashamed that I, a Ravenclaw, didn't have the mother wit to go talk to Nick first, instead of listening to all that rubbish Millicent Bulstrode was talking."

"It wasn't all lies, Melinda." Marlie lowered her head, staring at the floor. "I was trying to get Nick interested. He wasn't having any, though. I should have asked him what was going on, instead of depending on the old rumour mill in this place. In your shoes, I might have tried to kill me too." Marlie looked up, meeting the Chinese girl's eyes. "I also heard from my roomies about what you'd been through. You weren't really in any shape to be back at school. What I heard---it made me sick."

"Even so, such a loss of temper is a dreadful _faux-pas_ in China, Marlie. My martial arts teachers were most displeased with me, not least for using the Arts on one who couldn't really fight back effectively. 'That is not why we taught you,' they said. Before they'd teach me again, I had to undergo serious penance."

"Can you forgive me, though?" Marlie looked hopeful. "It would mean so much to me if you could…"

"As I've said, it's for you to forgive me---once I learned that you'd been misinformed, I no longer blamed you. It's my hope that you'll forgive me." In a low voice, Melinda went on: "Whenever you do, it'll be a lot sooner than I'll forgive myself."

"I heard about your conversation with Deanna. Do you think we could be…not-enemies?" Marlie smiled for the first time. "I like that phrase."

Melinda tried a tremulous smile, and Marlie could see tears in the Ravenclaw's eyes. "Not-enemies sounds good---both with you and with your friends. Agreed?" She held out her hand, and Marlie shook it.

Luna had been watching, eyes wide as saucers. "Oh, I'm so happy!" she burbled. "I mean, Melinda's so nice, so gentle to me, I so wanted you to be friends with her! She's been helping me get my schoolwork, and my grades have been better than ever before!" Luna looked sad for a second. "She was awfully mean about Draco, though."

"Yeah, I saw that picture. Flinty's got it framed and hung on a wall," Marlie grinned wickedly. "He says it stays there till Draco convinces him that he no longer plays Quidditch like a house-elf."

"You know, I have wondered why they dropped you off the team, Marlie," Nick spoke up. "Unlike Melinda, I don't think Draco's a bad flier---and don't look at me that way, Melinda, I'm the expert here---but I'd say you're a lot better." Nick gave Marlie one of his penetrating stares. "Was it because of that mess in our fourth year---the one where Potter's broom went haywire?" Marlie nodded, and Nick and Melinda both looked deeply shocked. "Freya's _tears_! You mean to tell me that Flint thinks a bloody _Quidditch game's_ more important than saving a schoolmate in danger of his life?" He shook his head. "I was nearly sorted Slytherin, but right now, I'm glad I'm Ravenclaw! I couldn't live with myself if I was like that!"

"He seemed so nice. He was so nice to me…" Melinda whispered. Marlie felt an unfamiliar emotion---shame.

"You have to understand Flinty. All his being is wrapped up in Quidditch. As long as his team won, he wouldn't care if half of us were killed."

"Well, speaking for myself---_and_ Melinda, _and_ Luna---" Nick added rapidly as both girls opened their mouths---"I'd rather see Ravenclaw lose every flipping Quidditch game from now till Doomsday than win at the cost of players' lives." He shook his head. "On either side!"

"Not to change the subject," Marlie said, "but could you tell me about Dr. Fu, Melinda? Don't you think he's just dreamy?"

"Dreamy?" The Chinese girl looked deeply shocked. "He's my relative! I don't see him _that _way---that would be sick and wrong! He was always so good to me when I was little. One of my first memories is sitting on his lap being told a story." Melinda grinned impishly. "I do know he has that effect on other women, though. Add in his experience, and you've got something!"

"Experience?" Marlie looked slightly nonplussed. "Uh---I don't mean to pry, but how old _is_ he?"

Melinda smiled very knowingly. "Oh, so _that's _the way the trigrams fell, is it? Let's just say he's a deal older than Dumbledore. Yes, I know he looks young; Chinese wizards and witches were working on longevity and immortality for centuries." As Marlie's eyes went wide with shock, Melinda continued: "He's got four wives at present, and a bunch of concubines---they rotate in and out, I could never really keep track." She grinned a wicked grin. "Of course, if you did marry him, you'd suddenly be my step-great-great-grandmother, and you'd have enough family clout to boss me around day and night! That is, if you remembered---his wives and concubines all tend to wander around with silly, sated smiles, looking like cats that got into the canary cage." Marlie's jaw dropped.

"Sorry, Marls," murmured Deanna, suppressing a smile. "Guess you're kind of out of luck." Marlie looked at her friends, a woebegone expression on her face, and Rianne patted her on the back with a wink.

"I don't honestly think you'd have a chance, anyway, Marlie," Melinda said gently. "Great-Great Grandfather doesn't think that the Art of Love was ever developed outside of Asia. In particular, he's firmly convinced that the cry to be heard from the English marital chamber is: 'Don't be stupid, woman---do you think _for one second_ I'm enjoying this?'" All four Slytherin girls looked at Melinda in utter shock. Nick visibly suppressed a snicker.

"Where did he get _that _idea, Melinda?" asked Luna. She had been following the conversation avidly, eyes wide. Melinda gave Luna an ironic smile.

"Keep in mind, Luna, that the first English people he ever met were Victorians. Now, I know that the Victorians weren't like that at all, at least not in private, but he wouldn't have known, and he took their public statements at face value." She winked at Luna. "That's why it's not nice to tell lies."

"Uh---I've got a lot to think about. Nice to have talked with you, Melinda." Marlie wandered off to the Slytherin table, visibly gobsmacked, and Luella and Rianne accompanied her, their arms around Marlie's shoulders. Deanna, however, stayed behind.

"Is there something you want to say?" asked Nick.

Deanna nodded. "Melinda---you mentioned martial-arts teachers. What styles do you study? And who are your teachers?"

"You'd not have heard of them, Deanna, unless you'd been to Shaolin yourself. They were---are---masters there, who now serve my family by teaching us the Arts." Melinda looked pensive. "I value their opinions." Visibly gathering herself, she went on: "What I study---you'd probably call it Jeet Kune Do. Basically, it's 'whatever works,' mainly Chinese styles that suit my body type, with moves that originated elsewhere, and a lot of work with ancient and modern weapons."

Deanna's eyes were huge. "Oh my _goddess_…do you realise how _lucky _you are? I'd---I'd shag _Hagrid_ to have that sort of opportunity! Hell, I'd shag _Filch_!" She paused for a moment. "Do you think we could spar together sometime?" She grinned suddenly, a very wicked grin. "I'd love to have some new moves to surprise my mother, next time we're together!"

"Of course!" Melinda smiled warmly. "I mostly spar against Nick, here---my masters say I must learn to fight full-grown men, and Nick's close enough to do---but he knows my moves well now, as I do his. He took up the Arts himself after our first year, saying he didn't just want to be my punching dummy." Melinda gave Deanna a long look. "If you're willing to spar all-out, full-contact---we do wear padding, but both of us have had many bruises---I'd love to have you join us. I'll send you a message next time we're planning a session. And, if you'd like, I _could_ introduce you _and_ your mum to my teachers next summer, if you can get to London."

"I'd be honoured!" Grabbing Melinda, Deanna gave her an impulsive hug, before tearing herself away. "I've got to join my mates, but I'll owl Mum and tell her about this. She'll be absolutely thrilled! Thanks a bunch!"

When the Slytherins were gone, Melinda turned back to her meal, to find Nick and Luna both smiling at her. "I guess you're forgiven, love-of-my-life," said Nick. He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I don't think I've ever been prouder of you or more pleased with you."

"And I'm so glad you don't hate Marlie any more!" Less inhibited than Nick, Luna gave Melinda a hug, whispering in her ear: "And do please forgive yourself---I can't bear to see you unhappy!"

"I'll try, Luna. My therapist and I are making progress." With that, Melinda returned to her meal.

THE END


End file.
